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From
a
different
direction
,
another
voice
cut
crisply
through
the
night
:
"
You
’
re
damn
tootin
’
they
won
’
t
.
Had
you
covered
all
the
time
,
Atticus
.
"
Mr
.
Underwood
and
a
double
-
barreled
shotgun
were
leaning
out
his
window
above
The
Maycomb
Tribune
office
.
It
was
long
past
my
bedtime
and
I
was
growing
quite
tired
;
it
seemed
that
Atticus
and
Mr
Underwood
would
talk
for
the
rest
of
the
night
,
Mr
.
Underwood
out
the
window
and
Atticus
up
at
him
.
Finally
Atticus
returned
,
switched
off
the
light
above
the
jail
door
,
and
picked
up
his
chair
.
"
Can
I
carry
it
for
you
,
Mr
.
Finch
?
"
asked
Dill
.
He
had
not
said
a
word
the
whole
time
.
"
Why
,
thank
you
,
son
.
"
Walking
toward
the
office
,
Dill
and
I
fell
into
step
behind
Atticus
and
Jem
.
Dill
was
encumbered
by
the
chair
,
and
his
pace
was
slower
.
Atticus
and
Jem
were
well
ahead
of
us
,
and
I
umed
that
Atticus
was
giving
him
hell
for
not
going
home
,
but
I
was
wrong
.
As
they
passed
under
a
streetlight
,
Atticus
reached
out
and
massaged
Jem
’
s
hair
,
his
one
gesture
of
affection
.
Jem
heard
me
.
He
thrust
his
head
around
the
connecting
door
.
As
he
came
to
my
bed
Atticus
’
s
light
flashed
on
.
We
stayed
where
we
were
until
it
went
off
;
we
heard
him
turn
over
,
and
we
waited
until
he
was
still
again
.
Jem
took
me
to
his
room
and
put
me
in
bed
beside
him
.
"
Try
to
go
to
sleep
,
"
he
said
,
"
It
’
ll
be
all
over
after
tomorrow
,
maybe
.
"
We
had
come
in
quietly
,
so
as
not
to
wake
Aunty
.
Atticus
killed
the
engine
in
the
driveway
and
coasted
to
the
carhouse
;
we
went
in
the
back
door
and
to
our
rooms
without
a
word
.
I
was
very
tired
,
and
was
drifting
into
sleep
when
the
memory
of
Atticus
calmly
folding
his
newspaper
and
pushing
back
his
hat
became
Atticus
standing
in
the
middle
of
an
empty
waiting
street
,
pushing
up
his
glasses
.
The
full
meaning
of
the
night
’
s
events
hit
me
and
I
began
crying
.
Jem
was
awfully
nice
about
it
:
for
once
he
didn
’
t
remind
me
that
people
nearly
nine
years
old
didn
’
t
do
things
like
that
.
